


What You Trust

by Tex



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-22
Updated: 2010-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 16:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tex/pseuds/Tex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's never been good at asking for what he wants. Well, not politely. And especially not when it's something personal. "Come on, let's snuggle," or "I need a hug" are words that have never passed his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Season 4 - Spoils of War &amp; Quarantine (some dialogue taken directly from Quarantine)
> 
> My heartfelt thanks to my betas, Crysothemis and Lamardeuse. This story was MONTHS in the making and they went way above and beyond the call of duty. *smooches them both*

It's not often that Rodney allows himself the luxury of getting drunk (If you don't count his time in Russia, and Rodney doesn't because even the Russians can't survive there without being smashed 20 hours a day). And while he is far too valuable an asset to voluntarily kill brain cells with questionable alien swill, he does have a bottle of Glen Breton Rare stashed away in his quarters.

But that's only coming out if there's a disaster of biblical proportions looming on the horizon, like a Wraith apocalypse or imminent transformation into an Iratus bug.

On the other hand, not being a Wraith queen's post reproductive cycle snack is, in Rodney's book, an acceptable reason for deviation from his rule. So when a party breaks out in the mess to mark the destruction of the Wraith breeding ground, complete with food and microbrew from the Lorne/Dex joint venture, Rodney allows himself to be swept down the hall with everybody else.

And by the time the third goblet of _stuff_ hits his empty stomach, Rodney's well on his way to a truly maudlin drunk.

He takes up position in a corner, watching the festivities rather than actively participating in them. Rodney's spent years of his life viewing parties from just this viewpoint and he's never given it much thought.

But right now, with the stench of the Wraith ship still in his nostrils, Rodney longs for something different, something new. He'd like to dive head first into a pile of colleagues and wallow in the communion of not dying and _oh, God, what's in this stuff?_

Sheppard arrives fashionably late with Teyla in tow. Rodney watches their entry – Teyla as beautiful and graceful as ever despite the burgeoning curve of her belly, or maybe because of it; Sheppard is, well, still Sheppard – and something hot and unpleasant twists in his chest.

There. Right _there_. The homecoming king and queen. All eyes turn to them, admiringly, jealously, lustfully.

Or wait. Maybe that's just Rodney.

But still, people stop what they're doing and they stare. They want. And as gorgeous as Teyla is, Rodney would wager that there are more eyes on Sheppard.

Sheppard and his long, lean, well disciplined body and his rakish hair; his smart-ass grin; his slinky hips and those sharp eyes.

Rodney goes for another cup of stuff and drains it quickly, filling up again before he goes back to his corner perch. This futile crush he has on Sheppard is still going strong and after years of pining, it's even clearer to Rodney that nothing will come of it. And it isn't Sheppard's raging heterosexuality that's the roadblock; no man who takes that much care with his hair isn't at least bi.

But after yet another brush with death by life-sucking alien, Rodney has come to the sad realization that he's going to die alone. He's going to die without anyone crying at his bedside, without heirs to his vast intellectual property, without a loving, tearful face to gaze up into as he breathes his last. At least, that's what's going to happen if 1) he doesn't get over his "Sheppard" problem or 2) drinks himself into a coma tonight, and he's just drunk enough that the second option is looking better and better.

He's never been good at asking for what he wants. Well, not politely. And especially not when it's something personal. "Come on, let's snuggle," or "I need a hug" are words that have never passed his lips. And he's been fine with that because there've been things to do, people to see. But now, tonight, all those excuses and denials seem piled up at his door and he can't make a move without tripping on them.

Rodney thinks about the little black box in his room, the ring that he'd bought, the ring that Jeannie had guilted him into buying. He thinks about Katie and her high voice and her small, tentative touches. Her chatter about soil nutrients and fertilization and that awful phallic cactus thing that she named for him. He thinks about the night they finally consummated their grand passion and how, in place of afterglow, there was a silence that made Rodney feel like his insides had been scraped with a dull blade.

And though he doesn't mean to, Rodney thinks about Sheppard and his scratchy drawl that makes the most innocuous comment sound like a dirty proposition. He thinks of all the times Sheppard's called him "buddy" or placed his warm hand on Rodney's shoulder and how hard it makes Rodney's cock for minutes afterward –

"Rodney, this will solve nothing. You are aware of this, yes?"

The noise level in the room is ratcheting upward and someone has brought a laptop and speakers to one of the tables, cranking up the volume and the vibration of the bass is embedded in his bones. So Radek's sidling doesn't even make Rodney jump. But it does send irritation crawling across his skin at the interruption.

"'M aware of everything. Now, please go away." Rodney takes a long gulp of the brew, welcoming the slow, honeyed burn that trails down his throat and blurs the edges of everything.

Rodney contemplates fortifying himself with something from the snack table but it's an awfully long walk over there and as a bonus, Radek is, for some reason, still going on.

". . . just because you are socially retarded is no reason to shut your friends out. Our shared experiences might be used as a warm blanket with which to block out the horrors of living in the shadow of the Wraith."

Rodney squints. "You drunk?"

Radek grins and rocks back on his heels. "It is possible, yes."

"Oh, for the love of – 'm very capable of getting drunk without platitudes from the Bohemian Dr. Phil, and a soused one at that. Now, please, leave me to my misery," Rodney says, his tongue wrapping thickly around the words.

No sooner than Radek beats a hasty retreat does Rodney see his team coming toward him en masse. Rodney's gaze is helplessly drawn to Sheppard's easy, loose-limbed stride and Rodney shivers a little. Teyla and Ronon are right there, too, flanking Sheppard, all of them intent on getting to him, to reaching _him_.

And with the insight that only a lot of alcohol can provide, an enlightened truth comes to Rodney with the clarity of – well, something.

His team. _His. Team._ He's a part of them, and they him and it isn't just Sheppard, it's each of them, all of them, collectively and separately. The hot itch of emotion starts to well up in his eyes but he stands stock still as they form a protective semi-circle around him.

It's Teyla who speaks first. She's so beautiful, her face a little rounder now, her brown eyes kind and clear in the artificial light. It's almost more than Rodney can bear and his throat tightens. He gets so emotional when he drinks. How did he forget that?

"What's troubling you, Rodney?" she asked softly.

Rodney opens his mouth to say something – sweet and smart and that will probably be the first time he's managed that in all his nearly forty years. But before he can, Sheppard pipes in with that lazy, American drawl of his and the poetry Rodney's brain had begun creating spins itself into a very dirty limerick.

"You're really putting away the brew there, buddy. I thought you didn't indulge."

"I love you guys." Rodney just blurts it out before he can think better of it. "I really, really do." He's disappointed that his words come out slurred and sloppy but he keeps going, hoping and praying that they understand. "I love you." He says it again, for emphasis, because he is suddenly so full of tenderness for each of them that his hands positively ache to pull them all close. And suddenly, he can't stop talking.

"Ronon, he – you offered to take my place w' the Queen. An' Teyla, you risked your life for us today. And that one time, you told me, 'Stay strong', an' I really wanted to, I wanted to make you proud. And Sheppard, I – you're so – I wish – " Rodney tries but he can't find the right words.

What he thinks and feels about Sheppard fills him up and overwhelms him, even at the best of times. There's no way he can put voice to it, at least, not without the inclusion of things like "courageous spirit" or "nobility" or "a mouth made for cock-sucking". So he stops, lurching from horror to happiness from one second to the next and doubting, for just a moment, that he'd said any of it out loud.

In the aftermath of his little monologue, Rodney waits for their reactions.

Ronon, towering behind Teyla, lifts his eyebrows and is otherwise blank. It's the macho thing, Rodney knows and he approves wholeheartedly. The few times that Rodney has seen Ronon get sentimental were disturbing and he doesn't want to see that again.

Teyla's expression softens even more and she puts her hand on his arm and squeezes. It's crazy but sometimes, Teyla reminds him so much of Jeannie. Except without the yelling.

But it's Sheppard's reaction that Rodney's most interested in and in some ways, it doesn't disappoint. Sheppard gives a startled little laugh and then checks to make sure that no one else is listening in.

"Hey, what's say we call it a night? How 'bout it, Rodney? Time for beddy bye?"

Rodney half sits on the table behind him, disheartened beyond reason. "You're an idiot," Rodney mutters and gazes sadly into his empty cup. "I only love Ronon and Teyla now."

"Come," Teyla says, "we will accompany you to your quarters."

She gently pries the cup out of his hand and Rodney smiles. He wishes not for the first time that he and Teyla had made a go of it. He'd be an excellent father to her baby – well, maybe not a father. Advisor. No, _mentor_. Because mentors don't have to change diapers.

"I've got this."

Rodney looks up to see Sheppard directing his squinty frown at him.

"You sure?" Ronon's voice, rumbly and strangely comforting.

"Yeah." The next thing Rodney knows Sheppard's got him by the arm and they're heading for the door.

"Lemme go," Rodney says once they're out in the hallway, even though it's pretty much the exactly opposite of what he wants. "You're 'barrassing me." He has a vague sense of curious faces and amused stares but Rodney's paying more attention to the nearness of Sheppard's long body and the way he smells – clean, like sunshine and water. How does he do that?

"You're not doing much for my dignity, either." Rodney turns his head to glare at him and a wave of dizziness throws him off balance. The next thing he knows, Sheppard's arm is around his shoulder and Rodney is pressed, tight and oh so warm, against Sheppard's side.

They meet Lorne in the hallway. "Colonel, you need some help there?" He sounds amused but Rodney's dick is trying to get hard and he's not really paying much attention.

"Carry on, Major. Nothing to see here."

Sheppard's fingers press into his skin, pulling him into the hollow under Sheppard's arm and his whole body lights up with arousal, a supernova of heat and light and energy. Rodney turns his face into Sheppard's shirt and takes a deep breath. "Hot," Rodney mutters against Sheppard's collarbone, "Y'so hot."

"Yep. Alcohol will do that to you. Something about dilated capillaries, I think," Sheppard says, in the low, soft voice that Rodney doesn't get to hear very often and it distracts him for a moment, because no, that's not what he means, not at all. "Geez, Rodney, you weigh a ton. Do we need to increase your workouts?" Sheppard says, not so soft this time but with a little squeeze around his shoulders that makes Rodney want to hump Sheppard's leg.

"'S'not nice," Rodney says into Sheppard's armpit.

"Hey, knock it off. That tickles," Sheppard says, with a little chuckle in his voice.

So Rodney smiles and does it again. Sheppard laughs out loud then, that wicked laugh that the Pegasus Galaxy has given him so few opportunities to use and Rodney sighs happily.

Too soon, Rodney finds himself in his room, with Sheppard's hands on his shoulders. The lights come on and Rodney squints into Sheppard's clear, hazel eyes.

"Stay right there. I'm getting some Tylenol and water, okay?" Sheppard's smiling a little, his eyes soft and his hands steady on Rodney's shoulders.

Rodney smiles back, happier than he's been in a long while. Yes, _now_ things are going his way. Sheppard's here, Rodney's here and they're going to do this thing, here and now. With the water running in the bathroom, Rodney toes off his shoes and stumbles to his bed, lying down and going to work on his belt. It's trickier than he remembers for some reason.

But by the time Sheppard appears again, Rodney's got his pants on his floor and his hand in his boxers.

"Whoa, buddy, hold on." Sheppard's surprised, his eyes almost comically wide but he doesn't look away from Rodney's crotch and Rodney takes that as a good sign. He reaches over and turns off the light, then grabs the front of Sheppard's tee shirt with his free hand and yanks _hard_.

Water goes everywhere and Sheppard curses but he's there, at last, sprawled across Rodney's body. It's amazing, Sheppard's full weight is holding him down and Rodney can't help but arch up against him. When Sheppard starts to push up and away, Rodney wraps both arms around him and holds on.

"No, please, don't." Sheppard goes still and Rodney's heart pounds even faster. "I want – jus' let me." Oh, God, he's blowing this. Finally, _finally_, he's got Sheppard where he wants him, where he's wanted him practically from the moment he saw him in the chair in Antarctica and he can't find the words. He, Rodney McKay, is at a loss for words.

Sheppard's not moving, he's just watching, maybe waiting and Rodney does the only thing he can think of. He puts his hand on the back of Sheppard's neck and pulls him down. And after a near-miss landing on his chin, Rodney's lips find Sheppard's.

It's not exactly as he had imagined. Sheppard's body is a bundle of taut surprise, instead of the urgent, writhing press of muscle that Rodney has experienced in his dreams.

But oh, God, Sheppard's mouth is soft against his, soft and unresisting. He tastes good and he smells even better and Rodney's cock is hard and aching for a long, sweet moment before Sheppard's weight disappears and Rodney's lips go cold.

"No, Rodney." Sheppard's voice slices through the silence, a nighttime version of his commander's voice. "You should get some sleep."

"Don't want t'sleep," Rodney says and he's probably whining. But suddenly, the lights are back on and the unforgiving glare of illumination shows him everything. It's as if he's watching himself on TV, an episode of the soon-to-be-cancelled Rodney McKay Show. He can see it but he's detached, watching from the other side of a dusty piece of curved glass.

He rises up to his elbows, sees his dick jutting out of the slit in his boxers, sees Sheppard watching him with something like sadness and Rodney closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see it anymore.

"So def'nitely not my finest hour," Rodney mutters miserably. He turns onto his side so his back is to Sheppard and puts his dick back in his boxers with unsteady hands. "My deepest 'pologies." The bed is spinning and Rodney has to grab onto the edge of his mattress to keep from falling off.

"You – just need to sleep it off. You'll be back on your game in the morning. Well, afternoon."

Rodney sighs and the lights go out again. "Yeah. 'fternoon." Rodney closes his eyes and drifts instantly off to sleep.

* * *

Rodney wakes with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth and his eyeballs too big for their sockets. He lies still for a while, to make sure his stomach is in a good, stable place, then moves carefully out of bed. He stumbles into the bathroom and takes care of business with the light determinedly _off_.

As he's getting dressed, it comes back to him in vague snatches. The mess hall. The brew. Great. He doesn't remember the details and he's thankful for that. But what the hell? No doubt he'll have larger problems to contemplate today besides how much grain alcohol he consumed.

Rodney grabs his data pad and makes his way down the cheery hallway to the transporter, trying to poke at the control panel without actually opening his eyes. He wishes for a pair of Sheppard's Ray Bans but Rodney shrugs away the thought. He wouldn't look nearly as cool anyway.

He makes it to the conference room without crashing into anyone and that's when the fun really begins.

"Morning, McKay," Ronon shouts, adding a hard slap to the back that nearly brings Rodney to his shaky knees. "How's it going?"

"Ommnn," Rodney says, intending an expression of pain but his jaw is sore and sluggish and that's as close as he can get. "What the hell are you screaming about?" he asks, trying to find Ronon's body through the knife-like glare of the lights.

The sound of his own voice is more than enough to make his head throb anew and Ronon's response just redoubles that. "You're a little green there. Anything wrong?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Rodney answers carefully. "Just peachy, in fact. But keep your damn voice down unless you want your quarters flooded with overflow from the sewage system."

Ronon snorts but doesn't say any more. Rodney takes that as a good sign, gropes his way into the nearest seat and flops into it. It's only then that he realizes that Sheppard's there, too, sprawled in his usual seat. "Oh. Good morning, Colonel."

"Is it?"

Rodney frowns at the sharp tone of his words. Oh, he _really_ doesn't need any attitude today. "What's your problem?" Rodney asks, shading his eyes with one hand because really, were the lights always this bright?

Before he gets anything other than Sheppard's cool stare, Sam and Teyla enter the room and the meeting begins.

After the meeting, the day continues with its usual frustrations and impossible feats (but with the added bonus of watching Radek moan, hold his head gingerly and pop Motrin like M&amp;Ms). But something keeps tickling the back of his mind, distracting Rodney from his work.

It's not a situation he's used to. His ability to focus is the one thing he's always been able to count on, through a lonely adolescence and an even lonelier adulthood.

For the rest of the day, the sensation keeps pulling at him. It's there, on the edge of every task he completes but he can't quite reel it in. As prioritizing is another of his many skills, however, Rodney puts that aside and moves on.

The afternoon is refreshingly absent of disasters, so that the first time Rodney takes a break, it's well past dinnertime and he's alone. He's closing up shop to take a walk to the mess when Sheppard appears in the doorway.

From the second that Sheppard crosses the threshold of his lab, there's a change in the atmosphere, like the introduction of a new variable into a simulation. Once it happens, Rodney's body automatically goes into crash-landing mode, a mental "brace, brace, brace" that has served him well so far. Tonight, when he gets into bed, or maybe in the shower, he'll go over all this in detail, but for now, Rodney pretends. He's good at it by now.

As usual, Sheppard ambles over and leans his hip into the lab table. No proper posture for him. Rodney keeps his eyes on Sheppard's face and away from all danger zones. "Hey," he says, softer than he intends, soft enough to be a stage whisper, even though the lab is deserted but for the two of them.

Sheppard answers in a similar tone. "Hey. Uh, listen, I just wanted to check – you okay?"

"Of course. I was just about to get some dinner, in fact. You want to come with me?"

"Really?" Sheppard says and Rodney frowns at his tone of voice – doubtful, like he thinks Rodney's lying.

"Yes, really. I usually eat about this time every night, barring galaxy-wide disaster – "

Sheppard interrupts him. "Not that. I mean are you really all right?"

"Yes. Well, my back aches and I've been having this tingling sensation in my knees – "

Again, Sheppard interrupts, sharper this time. "Are you recovered from last night?"

_Oh, hell._ "Oh, that," he says airily, waving a hand in dismissal as he makes a show of pushing his lab stool closer to the table. "I'm fine. I had a splitting headache this morning, though that's not all that different from any other day. But yes. All better now."

Sheppard doesn't say anything. It's clear that he doesn't like Rodney's answer because Sheppard's wearing _that_ face, the one he wears when Rodney tries to use video game language during an op. It's the face that makes dread curl unhappily in his gut. "What?" he squawks sharply.

"You got drunk last night. That's not like you."

His face gets even hotter but for a different reason. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Colonel, but even after all this time, I still occasionally have trouble dealing with almost dying."

Sheppard straightens, no longer casual, no longer at ease. He appears tense, almost angry. "You don't remember anything from last night? Not – anything?"

And just like that, Rodney understands. That thing that's been nagging him all day, that mental tickle in the back of his head – something else happened, something apparently so awful that Rodney can't remember it.

He takes a half step back, out of Sheppard's reach. It makes sense now – Sheppard's measured greeting this morning and now, this expression on his face, like disappointment, like _something_ Rodney's never seen before.

"Wh-what happened?" Rodney asks. He hones in on Sheppard's face, searching for any hint of the truth. "What did I do?"

"Rodney – "

He hates the way his voice sounds so breathless, but he can't fix it, not now. "No, you have to tell me."

"Just settle down."

"You're making me very nervous."

"I just don't like the idea of you drowning your sorrows in liquor. And I know it was only this one time but – and I can't believe I'm telling you this – maybe you should see someone." Sheppard's mouth is twisted, like the words have left a bad aftertaste and Rodney would laugh if he weren't so freaked out.

"Excuse me? You want me to see Heightmeyer Lite? Thank you for the mental health advice, Colonel, but it was just one night and it won't happen again."

Sheppard's expression changes then, becoming almost normal again, and Rodney's hit by a wave of relief so strong that he forgets to be hysterical for a couple of seconds. "All right, then. Just – watch the liquor. Deal?"

"Sure, sure, whatever, thanks. But seriously? What did I do?"

But Sheppard only smiles, the good one, the one that goes all the way to his eyes. "Come on. I'll walk you to the mess," he says and the next thing Rodney knows, they're walking side by side through the halls of their city, Sheppard's shoulder jostling his after the first couple of steps.

Rodney quietly hyperventilates for a couple more minutes until he realizes that whatever happened hasn't gotten him punched out or kicked off Sheppard's team. Besides, no one has looked at him funny all day and on a base as small as Atlantis, news of a major faux pas by the Chief Science Officer would have spread like Kirsan fever.

So Rodney releases a huge sigh and sits down across from Sheppard much as he had the day before. He calls Sheppard a sissy when Sheppard pours milk into his tea and Sheppard retaliates by stealing Rodney's cookie and it's like any other day.

* * *

He doesn't notice at first. A man whose responsibilities extend to the daily saving of galaxies can't be criticized for tuning out the periphery. But Rodney has always had a finely honed sense of awareness where Sheppard's concerned and one day, Rodney realizes that Sheppard's shadow has been darkening his door all day.

It's not unusual for Sheppard to show up at the lab at some point in the day – it's been that way from their first week in Atlantis. He grins and flirts and is a general instrument for evil until Rodney has to usher him out because Sheppard makes his scientists giggle (Rodney didn't know Radek could make a sound like that).

Everything's normal; at least, it's as normal as it ever is. When they aren't running for their lives offworld, Rodney shares at least one meal a day with Sheppard and Sheppard harangues him into playing video golf at least twice a week. There are chess games and movies besides that, along with the occasions when Sheppard calls Rodney on the comm when he's stumbled across something "cool".

Then, one day, he's just finishing making some tweaks to his nanite medical program when he realizes that Sheppard's sitting next to him on a lab stool, with a sudoku puzzle, a pencil and a cup of coffee. And that it's the third time in as many days that it's happened.

Sheppard appears deep in concentration, his eyes on the puzzle while bouncing the eraser end of the pencil repeatedly against his bottom lip. Rodney contemplates the pouty, pillowy softness of that bottom lip for several seconds before he snaps.

"Will you stop that? It's very unsanitary. Who knows where that pencil has been?"

Sheppard gives him a frown. "It's my pencil, Rodney."

"Yes, well." _Who knows where your mouth has been,_ Rodney thinks to himself, which puts a number of filthily inappropriate images in his head.

Rodney flushes hot. "Why are you here?"

Sheppard returns his attention to the puzzle. "I'm all caught up. M' bored."

"There has a be a better place for you to play. Like out from under foot of the grown ups?"

"I'm good here, thanks. Besides, if I get stuck, which rarely happens, by the way, there's always a genius around to help me out. Like now. Here. Help me out."

Sheppard slides the puzzle in front of him and Rodney stiffens. "Are you kidding me? Do you think I have nothing better to do than – " His gaze flits down. "Ooh. You need a nine in the upper right corner."

That night, Sheppard appears at his door with a big bowl of popcorn and a DVD case.

"Were we supposed to meet tonight?" Rodney asks, scratching his head as Sheppard sets up Rodney's laptop next to the sofa.

"Nah, but this just fell into my hands and I knew you'd be interested."

Sheppard sits down next to Rodney and puts the bowl between them. Rodney's still confused but the popcorn smells wonderful so he settles back as the screen lights up with color. And Rodney's eyes widen when he realizes that Sheppard's queued up the Montreal-Boston Eastern Conference quarterfinal game.

Rodney pauses with his hand deep into the bowl. "What – you want to watch hockey?"

Sheppard doesn't turn his head but there's a surprisingly sweet smile curving his lips. "Major Marks gave me a copy before the Daedalus left. I know it's the one you haven't seen."

"Oh. Well, that's – good. Very good." He's confused but Rodney smiles anyway, affection welling up inside him. Sheppard's watching the game and he misses it completely.

A day later, Sheppard pulls him away from a midday snack with Katie for another jumper lesson.

"But I had a lesson two days ago," Rodney says, hastily waving to Katie as Sheppard pulls him away with a proprietary grip on his arm that has Rodney caught between aggravation and arousal. He could easily break free but Rodney doesn't. He doesn't want to.

"A day and a half ago. And you want to be prepared the next time we have to blast our way through an asteroid belt, don't you?" Sheppard answers boisterously. He's determined and persistent and Rodney tries not to find that hot.

"Well, yes. Although if that happens again in my lifetime – "

"I knew you'd see it my way."

The truth is Rodney doesn't need that much persuading when it comes to logging in time in the jumper. For one thing, it's a _space ship._. And for another, it gives him one on one time with Sheppard, away from the intrusion of others. Everybody wants time with Sheppard and Rodney's no exception.

Sheppard's a good teacher – Rodney's learned a lot with Sheppard in the co-pilot's chair, with his quiet reassuring voice in his ear. He doesn't have Sheppard's instincts for flying, or his passion, or his great big ATA gene, so Rodney knows his proficiency will always be limited. But when things are going right, when he's flying straight down the line and the jumper responds to his every thought and deviation, it's fucking fantastic.

He goes into "the zone", that mystical place that he's heard Sheppard, Lorne and even Ronon speak of, where there's a kind of buzz in his ears that blocks out all superfluous noise so he almost misses it when Sheppard speaks.

"So."

Sheppard draws out the vowel, stretching the one syllable out into a two second production.

Nothing more is forthcoming and Rodney takes a quick glance in Sheppard's direction. "Were you actually going somewhere with that or was it just a trial run?"

"I was just wondering – how're things going with Katie these days?"

Rodney's right hand twitches and the jumper makes an eastern deviation from their course. "Dammit," Rodney says under his breath, and works to bring it back. "What kind of question is that?"

Sheppard lowers his surfing magazine and gives him a lazy smile. "Relax, Rodney. It's just small talk."

"Funny, Colonel, but I don't remember us ever indulging in small talk about my love life."

"You still need to relax your grip on the controls so I thought some pleasant conversation would help, so shut up and go along. Now, my question was – "

"I remember the question and we're doing fine, all right? Just – fine."

"Whoa, relax. Why are you getting so defensive?"

Rodney stares straight ahead, his jaw tight. He's not seeing the planet below anymore as he turns Sheppard's question over in his head.

Defensive? Is he defensive? Just because he doesn't want to talk to Sheppard about Katie doesn't necessarily mean that he's defensive or has something to be ashamed of. And so what if he doesn't like to talk about Katie to anyone? It's just that he's a very private person. That's all.

Rodney throws a glare at Sheppard, only he's still reading his magazine and misses it. So Rodney puts the jumper into a steep dive that makes Sheppard jump out of the copilot's seat.

"Rodney? What the hell?" Sheppard yelps as he jumps up and lunges for the controls.

Slapping his hands out of the way, Rodney smiles and calmly pulls the jumper up again. "Just trying to keep you awake, Sheppard. Why so jumpy?"

Sheppard gives him a frown as he sits down again and the subject of Katie gets dropped like a hot potato.

* * *

 

When Lorne's team picks up an unusual energy signature in the alien meadows of M3X-425, Sheppard decides they should check it out. The stargate is situated in the middle of a wide meadow and for once, Rodney doesn't mind the walk.

He's been in a remarkably good mood lately and has even been sleeping well. And not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Rodney takes the absence of imminent threats to his life as a sign that he should dial it down and relax a little.

It's easy to do here. Everything is green and lush and temperate and once he's assured that his equipment isn't detecting any looming disaster, Rodney lifts his head up into the warmth of the sun and breathes deeply of air that seems remarkably free of allergens.

"The land appears very fertile here. Perhaps we should take some soil samples back for Dr. Brown."

"Let's see what the energy sig is all about first. Rodney, you getting anything?"

"He looks weird. Don't think he's listening."

"Rodney? You still with us?"

At the sound of his name, Rodney realizes that all three of his teammates are watching him curiously. "Hmm? What was that?"

"Are you well, Rodney?" Teyla asks, with a teasing light in her eyes.

"What? Can't I find pleasure in a simple walk amongst nature?"

Ronon grins. "You never have before."

"So? I'm doing something different today."

"Must be drunk again."

Rodney's good mood fades in the heat of embarrassment and he glares at Ronon.

"Ronon," Teyla says in her admonishing tone.

"Oh, come on. McKay knows I don't mean anything by it."

"Do I? What, am I psychic, too, in addition to genius and miracle worker?"

"Well, after what you said the other night – "

"What are you talking about?"

"The night you got drunk."

Rodney's head comes up and panic closes in on him again. But before he can speak, Sheppard does, his voice as sharp as one of Ronon's knives. "All right, cut the chatter. Let's get this over with so we can go home."

Rodney stops. "No. Wait. What do you mean, what I said the other night? What did I say?" His teammates halt and turn toward him.

"You said you loved us."

Rodney sucks in a breath so fast that he aspirates on saliva and begins to choke and cough. He peers through watery eyes and sees Teyla and Sheppard staring at Ronon.

"What?" Ronon shrugs. "He asked me."

"I can't believe – you kept – this from me," Rodney accuses in a strangled voice, wondering where all the good sinkholes were when you needed them. "My team. Deceivers, every one."

"Rodney, it doesn't matter," Sheppard says quietly and Rodney hates him a little in that moment.

Teyla comes closer. "We know you don't usually speak of such things. We did not want you to be uncomfortable in our presence."

"Or at least, some of us didn't," Sheppard adds with a meaningful look at Ronon.

"I don't see what the problem is," Ronon says. "On Sateda, we didn't hide how we felt about the people close to us. We knew the Wraith could come and then it would be too late. It's stupid not to say it. Or show it."

While Rodney's still processing the fact that he'd apparently suffered some kind of alcohol related psychosis, Ronon walks up to him, throws his big arms around him and lifts him off his feet. "I love you, too, McKay," he growls against the top of Rodney's head. Then, he sets Rodney down and turns toward Sheppard. And Sheppard has a brief deer-in-the-headlights moment before he breaks out in a run.

Teyla starts to laugh and Rodney can't help but join her as Ronon chases Sheppard, in full gear and tac vest, across the green grasses. But Sheppard doesn't have near the moves that Ronon does and Ronon catches Sheppard easily, grabbing him up in his arms the same way he had Rodney and shaking him. And when that's done, Ronon turns and makes a run at Teyla with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"No, Ronon, don't you dare," she says in half-hearted protest and Ronon swings her up off her feet, cradling her gently and carefully swinging her around while they both laugh their heads off.

Rodney wipes at his eyes, tenderness for all three of them bursting hot and bright inside him and in that moment, he knows that it's true, that drunken confession, even though he doesn't remember. And it's okay, incredibly, all because of Ronon.

Sheppard appears at his side and shakes his head, clearly as bemused as Rodney. "What just happened?" Sheppard asks, his mouth curving up, his eyes glowing and happy.

"Not a clue," Rodney says with a grin, watching Ronon set Teyla on the ground again. But when he turns back, Sheppard is still watching him and with such open affection that Rodney can't take a breath. Then Sheppard turns away and they're on the move again and Rodney decides it was just a trick of the morning light.

They don't find anything on M3X-425, not as far as ZPMs go. But that night, when he returns to his room, Rodney opens his desk drawer. He considers at the black ring box and thinks about the Wraith and Sateda, about culled worlds and dying alone. He thinks about Sheppard and impossibilities and the things he's _supposed_ to want.

He thinks maybe Ronon is right.

Rodney takes a quick shower and dresses in his cleanest civvies – a dark button down shirt and dark jeans. His destination is just a short walk from the transporter.

As soon as he walks into the botany lab, he spies Katie, her head bent over something that's a cross between blueberries and a stalk of broccoli. When she spots him, her lovely face brightens.

"Rodney. This is a surprise," Katie says, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Can you take a break? Walk with me?" Rodney asks and really, it's easy this time. He's not nervous at all but he wipes his hands on his pants as stealthily as possible, just in case.

"I'd love it." Katie comes toward him, smoothing her hair and brushing at her blouse and there's a little pang in his heart. _She deserves someone nice_, he thinks. _Maybe it could be me._

* * *

Sheppard's at his door just as Rodney is leaving. In fact, he has to do some pretty fancy footwork to keep from plowing into him.

Rodney glares at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Sheppard grins at him, but Rodney notices that he's a little tight around the eyes, like he's tired or possibly not well and his irritation fades almost immediately. "I've got some free time. Come play some video golf with me."

Rodney checks his watch. He can't do this, not today. The black box has finally made the trip from his desk drawer to his pocket and it's like he's transporting weapons-grade plutonium through the middle of a day care center. Any deviation from his plotted course and an apocalyptic disaster awaits.

"I can't. I've got something – "

"Oh, come on. You bailed on movie night again last night. You owe me a round."

"Owe you? Colonel, if I called people on what is owed to _me_\-- "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Are you coming?"

Rodney starts to refuse but the words don't make it to his lips. He's spent the last few weeks concentrating on Katie and not letting Sheppard distract him with his lanky hotness. He's succeeded so well that it's only now, faced with the full brunt of Sheppard's rampaging pheromones that Rodney realizes how much he's missed Sheppard.

So, he's playing video golf with Sheppard just before he proposes to Katie. So what? Sheppard is still his friend, no matter what. And he apparently doesn't feel well and wants some company and isn't that what friends are for?

Sure, he's had to put aside that friendship and to a lesser extent, his friendship with Teyla and Ronon, so that he could be a good boyfriend but after he and Katie are married – oh God, _married_.

"Come on, Rodney, pay attention. What's with you today?"

No, not married, not yet. Being engaged is not as confining as being married. And maybe confining is a poor choice of words. This is what he wants. It definitely is. Probably. No, no, no. Definitely.

Because he's going to do this, it's time, past time, really. Jeannie was right. This is the next step in the process and he _will_ do this. Just as soon as he can move his leg from where it's pressing against Sheppard's.

Rodney draws in a deep breath and it comes to him why it's been important to keep Sheppard at arm's length. God, Sheppard smells good. No matter what they've been doing, or how hard they have to run for their lives, there's always a discernible scent that clings to Sheppard, that makes Rodney envision lazy mornings, tangled sheets and long, familiar kisses that last for hours.

Sometimes Katie's perfume makes his nose itch.

The game ends with Rodney suffering his usual defeat and as soon as Sheppard gives him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, Rodney gets up. He finds the mirror and comb that's kept in the pen and pencil drawer and gives his reflection a close scrutiny. It's time. It's now or never. No more delays.

"C'mon, dude, one more round."

Rodney answers Sheppard automatically as he checks his hair and his teeth in the mirror. His pulse is rapid, he might be feverish and as he leans in closer, Rodney thinks his eyes look a little wild, too.

Maybe he's coming down with something. Should he put this off? He ought to be firing on all cylinders for something like this and if he's sick – oh, that's just great. Sheppard's infected him.

"Well, be late. Women like it when guys are late."

"No, they don't and I can't be late – not for this lunch." Wait. Is lunch the best time for a proposal? Maybe dinner would be better. Moonlight is more romantic than daylight. Dammit, he knows this. For the first time in more than a year, he wishes Cadman were around. As a tap-dancing bomb expert, she wasn't much, but she was always willing to butt in with an opinion on female-related stuff.

"Why's that?"

"Can you keep a secret?" Rodney stops suddenly. He doesn't know why he says that. Why should a declaration of intent be kept a secret? A marriage proposal is a good thing, happy news and all that. _Why_ did he say that? It's not as if he's ashamed of Katie; no, not at all. She's intelligent; she's pretty; she has a PhD, even if it's in one of the lesser sciences.

Rodney hands Sheppard the box and as soon as he mentions marriage, Sheppard's head comes up. And that's when Rodney's brain goes offline because Sheppard looks startled, and, dare he even think it, unhappy. And Rodney grabs onto that notion as tight as he can.

"What, you don't think I'm ready? You think I'm rushing things?" All at once, Rodney's blood is singing in his veins. He _knew_ it; he _is_ rushing this. What is he thinking, proposing marriage? He's Rodney McKay, two galaxies are depending on him to keep them alive and he's going to traipse off on a honeymoon?

"I didn't say that – "

"Well, I'm not. I'm not ready to set a date or anything but – " And he's not. He's not anywhere near ready to set a date. He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Standing there, close enough to touch Sheppard, close enough to lick the smooth skin on the back of Sheppard's brown neck, Rodney has trouble following the conversation, much less – why the hell doesn't Sheppard just _say_ something?

Sheppard asks him about the diamond and Rodney babbles an answer, his thought processes jumping ahead two steps. If Sheppard doesn't stop him, he'll do this thing. He'll go to Katie and he'll propose. He cares for Katie, he really does. It won't be so bad. They'll make a life together here on Atlantis and things will go on as usual.

There'll have to be some changes. Team movie night is probably out. He can't picture Katie sitting between Teyla and Ronon on the sofa – Ronon makes Katie shrink into a timid little lump – and the thought of the five of them sitting down to lunch makes Rodney cringe. Besides, Katie talks about how much she loves children and there was a mention of a biological clock once and _oh God oh God oh God._

Rodney takes his radio off and Sheppard hands him the box. "Well, I'll – I'll buy you a beer later. We can celebrate."

He keeps glancing at Sheppard. He's still wearing that weird expression – it's off, in a way that Rodney can't really put his finger on.

"Yeah – or drown my sorrows should she say no." Rodney doesn't really think that's a possibility – he knows that Katie cares for him; she's told him so, in those exact words. But, God, could she? Would she?

"No, no, none of that."

His face freezes in a terrible smile. This is it. This is his last chance. If only Sheppard would say something, give him a hint that he doesn't want him to do this, that there's a _reason_ Rodney shouldn't do this –

"Well, go get the girl."

There's a split second when Rodney wants to punch him, right in his helpful, gorgeous face. Then, somehow, his legs start to move and he's moving away from Sheppard, toward Katie.  
Rodney finds Katie in the plant room and almost immediately begins to sweat. He's never liked the plant room, with its moist warmth and fecund smell. But Katie smiles at him so sweetly, is so happy to see him and every doubt that Rodney's ever had about this relationship rises up in his throat and tries to choke him.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm – fine. Yeah, uh, yeah. Wow, this is much more, uh – " He can't concentrate. He should have rehearsed this. Why didn't he _rehearse?_

Katie comes closer. "You're sweating."

"Oh, I am?" He wipes his forehead and yeah, he's sweating all right, it's running down the middle of his back, too. "Oh, I suppose I am. Okay, um, I guess I, I should just – " Oh, God, he's babbling, he's blowing this, it's all going to blow up in his face.

Katie laughs at him and he deserves at least that. "Rodney? What's wrong?"

Rodney smiles and tries to get it together. He wants this, he does. So why is it so hard? Is it this hard for everyone or is this a torture that fate's reserved just for him? He starts talking, without regard to direction, to cover the fact that he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. "It's nothing. In fact, everything's right – with us, I mean. So, I was thinking – and I don't know about you but the way I see it, uh – I thought that, uh, maybe, it's time that we – you know – "

As soon as he reaches into his pocket for the ring, the doors slam shut and his world goes violently askew.

 

* * *

Considering all the havoc it wreaked, it doesn't take Rodney long to recalibrate the quarantine protocols. It's the same situation with the breakup with Katie – a year and a half of his time and energy is wiped out in the course of one five-minute conversation.

It's not quite as simplistic as that but it's close. On some level Rodney knew that it wasn't going to work with Katie; it was just a matter of time. He's not so much devastated as simply numb and doesn't that just say it all?

It's late but he spends some time in the labs and braces himself for the inevitable intrusion of the base gossips, wanting details. But surprisingly, they don't come. And he almost relaxes until he realizes that _no one_ also includes Sheppard.

Rodney starts to watch the door, anticipating the appearance of that familiar tall body and a conciliatory smile. But Sheppard never shows. Rodney goes to bed that night with an uneasiness that he can't get rid of.

They have a mission scheduled for the next day, the quarterly trade mission to the Ren Faire planet. It's tradition that both he and Sheppard handle it, though given the recent turmoil and his poor night's sleep, Rodney gives a thought or two to backing out. In the end, he thinks of the two hot princesses who act as their hostesses and Rodney decides to tough it out.

Sheppard's already in the conference room for the pre-mission briefing by the time Rodney gets there. Rodney ignores the tension banking against his insides and gives Sheppard a wave and a smile.

Rodney gets only a mumbled "Hey" in return and he quickly takes a seat, his face full of embarrassed heat.

He tries to brush it off but Sheppard's no more responsive throughout the rest of the briefing and they take off immediately after. Rodney thinks about starting up a conversation but he spends the hour-long jumper ride staring straight ahead until they land.

Once there, things are almost normal – he and Sheppard are coerced into acting as unwilling escorts to a spoiled princess, have to run for their lives and work together to survive. They banter and argue and it's like any other day. Until they're back in Atlantis and Sheppard's standoffish again. Rodney goes back to his lab, this time without Sheppard following. It's not that it bothers him – because that would be silly. And he's not bothered. Silly.

The next day Rodney's workday is blissfully Colonel-free. It's great; Rodney can't remember the last time his department has gone an entire day without a Sheppard-sized hitch. He gets through the initial mini-drone assessment without a single interruption and he and Radek move on to ideas about implementing them at the base of the main tower. It's great, Rodney tells himself, really great.

Rodney decides to take an early lunch. It's been his habit almost from the day they arrived to take lunch at one, but he wants more uninterrupted time to run the drone simulations he has on tap. The room is barely half full and he grabs a table at the far end of the room, hoping to avoid company so he can get done quickly. He's three bites into his lunch when Teyla puts her tray down next to him.

Rodney blinks a greeting at her and she smiles in return. It's not often that it's just he and Teyla sharing a meal but Rodney doesn't mind. From what he's learned so far, the concept of chitchat is unknown to the Pegasus Galaxy and Teyla is the personification of that.

"I heard about you and Dr. Brown, Rodney. I am sorry."

Rodney accidentally slurps his soup a little too enthusiastically and nearly chokes but he covers nicely. "Oh. Yes. Well, we agreed that – it was for the best."

Teyla gives his arm a pat but thankfully says no more. They have several minutes of companionable silence and Rodney is just scraping up the last of his pudding cup when a casual glance upward snags Sheppard scoping out a table.

Sheppard freezes as soon as he spots Rodney. It's obvious that he didn't see Rodney in the corner and it's also obvious, from the way his eyes are darting about the room, that he's searching for escape. Rodney sits up a little straighter and thrusts his chin out, daring Sheppard to ignore him.

Sheppard's shoulders drop a little and one corner of his mouth twitches before he makes his way over, his boots making a scuffling sound against the floor, like it's too much effort to lift his feet, like every step toward Rodney is taking maximum effort and _seriously, Sheppard, where's the motherfucking love now?_

With his jaw clenched tight, Rodney watches Sheppard sit down across from him and Teyla. "Hey, guys," Sheppard says without looking up.

"John," Teyla says, "you are eating lunch early again today. Is this a new habit? "

The remark makes Rodney's fingers twitch. So. Sheppard's taking an early lunch. Again. As long as Rodney's known him, Sheppard has never eaten before one o'clock, just like Rodney. If he were the paranoid sort, Rodney might wonder that Sheppard's new eating habits have something to do with avoiding him.

Come to think of it, Rodney _is_ the paranoid sort, and his heart starts beating much faster than can possibly be good for his digestion.

"You've been busy." Rodney just throws it out there, like a big stinky piece of bait and waits to see if he gets anything on his line.

There's a beat or two where Sheppard keeps on eating, and then his head comes up. "You talking to me?" he asks, with big eyes.

Rodney sneers. So. It's going to be like that. "Yes, Colonel. I haven't seen much of you lately."

"That's not true" Sheppard says, chewing his sandwich slowly. "We just went on a mission yesterday."

"You know what I mean." Rodney crosses his arms and waits for – for _something_ but Sheppard immediately launches into some intel about the possible whereabouts of the Athosians. By the time Teyla excuses herself from the table, Rodney's blood pressure is creeping up into stroke range.

"So when do I collect on that beer?" Rodney says, a little louder than he means but he's starting to feel a little desperate and a lot pathetic. He doesn't understand what's going on. He and Sheppard have been getting along fine, even better than fine and now – what the hell did he do this time?

Sheppard gives him a blank stare and Rodney has to restrain himself from leaping over the table and clocking him. He _knows_ Sheppard isn't this thick, which means he's doing it on purpose, whatever _it_ is. "Remember? You offered me – "

Before Rodney can finish, Sheppard taps his comm. "Go ahead. Yeah. Be right there." He stands up and gives Rodney a fleeting grin. "Sorry, buddy. Gotta go."

Rodney watches him go, confusion and a weird sort of hurt twisting tight in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Rodney hates not understanding things. And he doesn't understand what's happening with Sheppard. He doesn't understand it at all.

* * *

Rodney finds a seat at the conference room table and doesn't speak to any of the people already assembled. He doesn't look at them, either. He's late and everyone knows it and he's not really charitable enough to offer an apology to anybody.

"Thanks for joining us, McKay."

Rodney's head comes up at Sam's voice. He's aware of what he looks like this morning – like he's barely slept, which he hasn't and like he wants her to take a long walk through a short, unstable wormhole, which he does. And Sam, genius that she is, gets all that and after clearing her throat, goes on with the briefing.

"This week's mission comes to us courtesy of Mr. Ronon Dex. M34-428, also known as Drau. It's a society of fair traders whose economy is – "

" – let me guess, primarily agricultural," Rodney bites off sharply. "Stop the presses." Rodney keeps his eyes on his tablet. He doesn't want to see the frown on Sheppard's face or worse, the blank expression that says that Sheppard doesn't care enough to pay attention. He opens up his last game of Freecell to pass the time.

"As I was saying, the economy is – primarily agricultural." Rodney snorts quietly and deals himself a new hand. "But according to Ronon, and to another of our contacts here in Pegasus, the Drauites are rumored to have a large, underground building at the center of the capital city called the Hall of Ancestors, which is inaccessible to all but government officials and visiting dignitaries."

"The Hall of Ancestors? Isn't that a ride at Disney World?"

Sheppard's the one who interrupts this time. And if this were two weeks ago, Rodney would have chuckled and Sheppard would have grinned at him and Sam would have taken a deep, cleansing breath. But not this time. Rodney moves his black three of spades onto his red four of diamonds and tries not to flip the conference table onto its side.

"It's not a place that has a lot of tech out in the open, so unless the Drauites are hoarding Ancient brick-a-brac, there might be something of interest in that building."

"I was there a few years ago," Ronon says. "It was a peaceful place from what I saw."

"I have not heard of anything untoward of Drau or its people," Teyla adds.

"Like _that's_ never come back to bite us," Rodney mutters under his breath, keeping his eyes on his card game.

"Colonel, if there is ancient technology in the building," Teyla asks Sam, "do we not run the risk of exposing Colonel Sheppard and Rodney to harm if they are able to access previously dormant systems?"

"From the descriptions Ronon and our contact have given us, it's not likely. It appears to be more of a library or possibly a museum. But we'll take the proper precautions."

"And we're sure they're just going to let us mosey inside and poke around?"

It's Sheppard who asks the question and before he can control himself, Rodney sneers across the table at him. "Well, as long as there are a few nubile women on the city council, I doubt you'll have any problem moseying deep into the night, Colonel."

Sheppard hooks one arm over the back of his chair and he gives Rodney a slow smile. "You flatter me, McKay."

"Oh, did I? Sorry, my mistake."

Sam gives a look that managed to encompass both him and Sheppard. "Well, if Dean Martin and Don Rickles here are done, that's all I have. You'll gate to Drau at 0900 in the morning. Dismissed."

Rodney gets to his feet as the room empties out. "Dean Martin and Don Rickles? Wow. You really dated yourself just now. And could you have picked someone more unattractive to be me?"

Sam's pissed and Rodney notices that it's still as hot as hell. "What's going on with you and Colonel Sheppard?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Save it, Rodney. Everyone's noticed the chill between you two."

"I've hardly seen the Colonel in days, so – "

"My point exactly. Whatever it is, fix it." Sam pushes her chair in and walks away.

"So, naturally, you assume it's my fault?" Rodney yells after her. Rodney goes back to the lab but even his lab is no longer the restful place it once was. He slams things and he throws sweet Miko out altogether and Radek keeps watching him like he's an unexploded drone and the more Rodney thinks of it, that's exactly what he feels like.

He's not feeling much different by the time they walk through the gate and land in Drau. The gate, naturally, is a klick away from the city proper, requiring yet another walk through alien woods.

Ronon takes point, Sheppard takes the six and they've gone no more than a quarter mile before Rodney realizes that no one's talking. There's the sound of wind through the trees and the crunch of their boots on the ground and that's all. It's as if the weirdness between him and Sheppard has infected the whole team and it's all kinds of wrong.

This is not how they do things, not how they operate. Ronon tells terrible jokes, Teyla tries to teach them about discretion and diplomacy, Rodney makes insightful observations on a variety of subjects and Sheppard teases all three of them. It's easy and comfortable and it _flows._ It's not this silence, this terrible chill that goes through Rodney's bones like Siberian winter.

He stares unhappily at Ronon's back and can't help but recall their last offworld mission and what a good day it had been. It hadn't lasted very long but –

"So, listen. What's with you and Sheppard?"

Rodney starts when Ronon appears at his side. A quick check over his shoulder reveals that Teyla and Sheppard have fallen back several hundred feet and appear deep into their own conversation.

Rodney swallows hard against the knot of unhappiness in his throat. "How should I know?" he answers, his voice more rough that he intends. "Why don't you ask him?"

"Did. He's not talking."

A defeated breath hisses from between Rodney's teeth. "Color me surprised. Colonel Taciturn is being closed-mouthed."

"You gonna quit the team?"

Rodney's stomach does a nauseating flip and he grabs at Ronon's sleeve to stop him. "Why did you mention that? Is he planning to kick me off the team? What did he say?"

"Like I said, he's not talking."

He lets his hand fall back to his side and he starts walking again, faster, as if he can escape the possibility somehow by just moving on. "He wouldn't," Rodney says, more to himself than to Ronon. "I don't believe it."

"Me, either. Besides, me and Teyla won't let him."

"You wouldn't?"

Ronon grins and claps him on the back. "Don't want to break in another scientist. It was too much trouble breaking you in."

Rodney gives into a half smile. "If I ask you a question, will you swear you'll tell me the truth?" Ronon looks vaguely insulted and Rodney waves his hand. "All right, fine. I know you will. Just – that night, when I – at the party, when – "

"When you got drunk and told us you loved us?"

Rodney rolls his eyes. It doesn't really embarrass him as much anymore. It's almost become team folklore by now – like the time that Sheppard turned into a bug and the day that whales saved Atlantis. "Yes, yes, that night. Did I – did anything else happen? Did I say or do anything else?" When Ronon shakes his head, Rodney swallows hard. "Are you sure? Tell me what happened."

"Wasn't that much. You were drinking by yourself. Me and Teyla and Sheppard went over to get you. Then Sheppard helped you to your quarters."

"You mean I couldn't walk? God, I don't remember being that drunk."

"You could walk. But you were wobbly so Sheppard said he'd take you."

"That's it?" Ronon shrugs and Rodney huffs impatiently. "Well, that's – spectacularly unhelpful."

"Whatever it is, I wish he'd get over it. He tried to teach me to play video golf the other day. It's boring."

Ronon moves past him again and Rodney sort of hangs in the air for a moment as the import, the _outrage_ of that sinks in.

Sheppard's teaching Ronon to play video golf now? Okay, point to Sheppard because that really hurts. Rodney rubs his forehead where a tension headache is starting. What the fuck is going on?

His footsteps start to drag as he contemplates the timeline of these sorry events. There was no change between him and Sheppard after he got drunk. Sure, Sheppard had spent a little more time with him after his drunken confession but Rodney put that down to his team leader's concern for Rodney's possible future alcoholism.

Even Rodney's decision to spend more time with Katie, to make a concerted effort to win her, once and for all, hadn't had any effect. True, he didn't see Sheppard as often but that had been _Rodney's_ choice, not Sheppard's. Even through all that, though, he and Sheppard had been fine.

Rodney's steps slow to a thoughtful shuffle. It was only after the quarantine that things changed, only after he and Katie called it quits that Sheppard backed off. Backed way off, like Rodney was wearing an Iratus bug for a necklace.

Something like relief washes warmly through Rodney because, yes, now, he's getting somewhere. Why hadn't he taken time before this to think it through? The time he'd wasted freaking out would have been better spent sitting down and working this like any other problem.

And it's Sheppard, for God's sake. He's always been able to figure Sheppard out. Well, apart from his lack of self-preservation and his trouble keeping his BDUs zipped when there's an available Ancient babe –

"Come on, McKay, pick up the pace."

Suddenly, Sheppard's there, having caught up to him while Rodney's been lost in thought. Under the light that sifts through the trees, Sheppard's hazel eyes are pale and translucent and his hair is ridiculous and Rodney's heart squeezes tight with the longing that's always been there. So he contemplates Sheppard for a while, too and he wonders – what else has he missed?

"What?" Sheppard asks warily.

Rodney glimpses Teyla at Sheppard's shoulder and inexplicably, she gives him a tiny nod. It's encouraging in a way he doesn't understand but he decides to go with it.

"McKay?"

He grins at Teyla, without a good reason for doing so. "I just had an idea. About something." He's almost got it, it's almost there. And when he gets back to Atlantis, when he has some uninterrupted time, he's going to study this more closely and then, maybe –

Sheppard's long fingers curl around the butt of his P90 a little more securely. "Well? You gonna let us in on it?"

"No. It needs some work. And besides, this isn't the place."

"Rodney is right," Teyla says and it may be the work of the sunlight but her eyes seem to hold an especially sly sparkle. "We should be on our way."

They start walking again and now, with a game plan, his mind clears and suddenly, he can breathe again. And when the capital city of Drau comes into view, Rodney finds himself inspired.

"Hey, Ronon. What did one hat say to the other hat?"

"I don't know. What?"

"You stay here, I'm gonna go on a head."

Ronon's face screws up for a second and then he laughs his big, surprisingly goofy laugh. Then Teyla succumbs, then Rodney and even Sheppard gives into a grin that he tries, and fails, to hide.

* * *

The people of Drau turn out to be the dedicated farmers they claim to be. In fact, their love of agriculture is so deep and abiding that they've dedicated an entire museum to the history of farming life. The large underground building at the city's center is filled with exhibits chronicling Drau's agrarian achievements through the years, along with a display of detrimental insects that makes Sheppard turn pale and back discreetly away.

After consulting with Sam via radio, Teyla negotiates a sweet deal for some produce. In return, Atlantis promises to send their soil scientists and botanists to assist the Drauites in boosting their crop yields. All in all, it's a fairly trouble free mission and they're on their way back home just after lunchtime.

Throughout the debrief, Rodney can't risk a look at Sheppard, for fear he'll give himself away. Once they're done, Rodney goes back to his quarters and settles on his bed with his laptop. Then he opens a Word document and starts to type.

He writes whatever comes into his head, freeform, without regard to punctuation or structure. It's a method he uses sometimes, when a problem is particularly contrary and since that's Sheppard in nutshell, Rodney's certain he's chosen wisely.

It takes half the afternoon, three power bars and a pot of coffee but when Rodney's done, he's sweaty and positively drunk with knowledge. And then he springs into action.

He gets cleaned up and dresses, choosing the blue shirt that Teyla once said made his eyes even bluer and a pair of khakis that he hasn't had many opportunities to wear. Then, he calls Radek on the comm.

"Where are you?" Radek sounds only curious, not panicked and that's always a good sign. "I thought you were due back hours ago."

"Yes, I was. But I'm taking the rest of the day off." Rodney squints into the mirror. God, was his hair _always_ this thin in front?

"Oh? Something's wrong?"

He leans in closer to give his teeth another check then walks out of the bathroom. "No. Everything's fine. But I do have a favor to ask."

"Rodney. It's your week to do the jumper maintenance – "

"I know that and that's not the favor. I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the night." Rodney can't help but smile to himself. "I don't want to even know there's such a thing as a science department on this base until tomorrow morning. Now, can you handle that?"

"Are you ill?"

Rodney drops his head back. "Do I have to be at death's door to take a night off? Fine, if you don't want – "

"I'll do it. But you'll owe me. Big time."

"Yes, yes. My firstborn is yours."

"You'll have to do better than that."

"You would be fortunate to have the responsibility of nurturing what would become one of the greatest minds of this century, next to – "

"Have a good night, Rodney."

Radek clicks off and Rodney breathes deeply in and out a few times before he keys his radio again.

"Sheppard?"

"Go ahead."

Rodney grins. That voice. That accent. How he loves it all. "Where are you?"

"I'm – uh. Why do you ask?" John sounds suspicious and Rodney coughs to cover his laughter.

"I need to see you." Need. Need. The word keeps thrumming through his body with every throb of his pulse.

"Now?"

"Yes. Right now."

"I'm busy. Can't it wait?"

"Wait? No, it definitely cannot wait. What's your location?" Rodney wants to laugh again because this time, _Sheppard_ is the one who's clueless and Rodney is the one who knows things. Oh, he knows so many things.

Sheppard sighs in his ear. "All right. I'm in my quarters."

It's less than a minute later that Rodney's moving down the hall toward Sheppard's door. He's practically running or maybe he just thinks he is because Rodney's tired of this, he's _done_ with it. The keeping quiet, the stupid longing, pretending this thing he has for Sheppard doesn't exist. It's past time to resolve it, one way or another.

They're so stupid. It could happen just like Ronon said. The Wraith could come, or the Genii or any other of a million ways that the Pegasus Galaxy is determined to fuck up their lives. And then, where would he be? No place Rodney would want to be, that's for sure.

When he stops in front of Sheppard's door, Rodney has a momentary clench of fear in his belly. He knows he's right. Rodney _knows_ he's right. But this is Sheppard he's dealing with and there's always the chance, a mathematically negligible chance that Sheppard is going to deny everything. Be the stoic commander, who needs nothing and nobody.

A chill goes through Rodney as he imagines the possible fallout, but he shakes it off determinedly. No. He's made the right decision and Rodney raises his hand and knocks on Sheppard's door.

He almost expects Sheppard not to be there, because that's just the kind of sneaky bastard Sheppard is. But the doors slide open and Sheppard's _there_, with his hands tucked into his armpits, his expression wary and Rodney settles inside his skin, his apprehension sharpening into purpose.

"Well. What's so important?"

Rodney walks in, sees the magazine open on Sheppard's bed, sees the putter next to the bed and quickly surmises the nature of what's been keeping Sheppard busy.

Sheppard is standing in the middle of the room and Rodney takes him in, absorbs every angle, each line and curve, from his crazy hair to his barely tied combat boots and Rodney can't help but smile.

He's never had the patience for strategy – the quick, seamless answer has always been his currency – and this is no different. He doesn't have time to create a complicated plan, he's got to strike while the Sheppard's hot and it's a little like stepping out of the wormhole for a first-time visit to another world. It's a place he's never been before and he's excited and scared shitless at the same time.

"What are you smiling at?" Sheppard frowns, his hands falling to his sides. Rodney shakes his head a little.

"You're good, you know that?" Rodney wags his finger at Sheppard, circling him while he talks. "I mean, you stand there, all lanky and smirky and you tilt your head and you let the bullshit fly and you think nobody gets you but you're wrong, Colonel. I get you. I've been getting you for years."

"Stand still and tell me what you're talking about."

Rodney stops and pulls in a deep breath, holds it, lets it fill him up until he thinks he might burst. "You want me."

Sheppard's eyes get wide and his mouth falls open and Rodney's more certain than ever that he's hit the mark. "Come again?" Sheppard asks in a strangled voice.

Rodney grins and lifts his arms wide, like he's flying because in a way, he is. He's never felt so light, so graceful. "You want me."

Sheppard staggers back a step. "I don't."

"You _so_ do. How else can you explain what's been going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. It's a classic Sheppard freak out. You've been avoiding me, you'll barely look at me. You're eating lunch before 1 o'clock. You're trying to teach _Ronon_ video golf? If it weren't so obviously pathetic, I might be hurt."

Sheppard's Adam's apple jumps when he swallows hard. "Look. I don't know who said – but I'm not – you're – "

Rodney points at him. "See. With the incoherence, too."

"If I'm incoherent, it's because I can't believe you're – saying what you're saying. I mean, what the hell, Rodney? You're telling me you're not straight after all?"

"I refuse to allow myself to be restricted by society's labels. I'm flexible."

"Yeah, no shit. It was just a few weeks ago you were about to propose to your _girlfriend._"

Rodney waves his hand dismissively. "Ancient history. I've moved on. Nice try, by the way, trying to change the subject but it's not going to work. So where was I?"

"Hell if I know," Sheppard mutters under his breath, rubbing his forehead hard.

"I feel a little – well, maybe dumb isn't the right word because, of course, we're talking about _me._ I would have figured it out sooner if I hadn't been having a little freak out of my own. But today, it all came together. Once I settled down and went through the last few weeks, step by step, it all fell into place."

"It did?" There's a weary quality to Sheppard's voice that lights Rodney up inside and he turns up the heat.

"After my little drunken confession of love, you started hanging around the labs more. The jumper lessons, the hockey game. And the touching. You were all over me," Rodney says happily.

"I was not."

"Were too. And you totally touched my ass that one time," Rodney adds and gets a deep satisfaction from the way that Sheppard's head comes up, flushed and angry.

_"That was an accident."_

"Don't get me wrong, it was great. Then everything changed after Katie and I broke up. I thought maybe you were just embarrassed for me that I'd been dumped even though I hadn't. But then, today, I realized – with Katie out of the picture, it left the way free and clear for you and you panicked. Am I right?"

Sheppard's eyes start to look glazed, like he's feverish or shocky and Rodney moves in to press his advantage.

"Thanks a lot, by the way. You're not afraid to carry a nuclear bomb onto a hive ship but sex with me scares you off?"

Shaking his head, Sheppard exhales noisily. "This is – crazy. Rodney, even if I – even if you're right," he says in a strained whisper, as if the conversation is going to penetrate Atlantis's sound-proof walls, "it won't work."

"So you admit it. You _do_ want me."

A muscle in Sheppard's cheek twitches. "And that it won't work."

"And why the hell not?"

Sheppard crosses his arms. "I can think of a few reasons."

Rodney gestures impatiently for him to go on.

"I'm straight"

Rodney snorts. "Try again."

Sheppard starts to get red in the face. "I'm the commander of this base. There are rules about this kind of thing."

"Please. _You're_ worried about the rules? Insubordination is your stock in trade. You're going to have to do better than that."

"I'm lousy at relationships." Sheppard's shouting now and it's a pretty rare occurrence, so Rodney knows that he's winning now.

"We've had a relationship for four years and we're still together, so to speak. Sex can only improve things."

Sheppard's eyes start to bulge a little and Rodney remembers that at Sheppard's age, strokes are a gathering concern so he moves in closer and takes another tack.

"John." Rodney puts his hands on Sheppard's biceps, gives them a little squeeze. The curve of those lean muscles makes Rodney breathe a little harder. He notices that it has the same effect on Sheppard.

"Listen," Rodney says quietly, rubbing his thumbs over the thick cotton of Sheppard's BDU shirt, "it's okay. Did you honestly think it wouldn't be? That I wouldn't want this? With you?"

He can sense the moment that Sheppard makes his decision. The tension in the lean muscles under his hands goes away and Sheppard sways a little, nearer to Rodney, nearer to what they both want.

Sheppard's face changes, softens as he releases a long, shuddering breath. "I don't like Katie," Sheppard says, watching Rodney's mouth.

"You don't?" Rodney asks, feeling the heat in Sheppard's hazel eyes spread through his body.

Sheppard's mouth quirks on one side and Rodney pulls him a little closer, then closer still, until Sheppard's long thighs are flush against his. "Kinda hate her," Sheppard goes on, softer still and the way he looks at him makes Rodney want to fiddle with spacetime – hell, just rewrite the laws of relativity so that they can stay, right here, just like this, forever.

Then Sheppard brings both hands up to frame Rodney's face with so much tenderness that Rodney can barely breathe. "Rodney," he says against Rodney's lips before diving in for a long, sweet kiss.

At the first touch of Sheppard's curvy bottom lip against his, Rodney makes a noise before he can stop himself, a groan borne of frustration and longing and yes, goddammit, _love,_ and he slides his hands beneath Sheppard's shirt, palming Sheppard's surprisingly soft skin from the small of his back to his shoulder blades, holding him and thinking, _finally, finally_.

He kisses Sheppard like he's pictured in his head, like he's kissed him in his porniest dreams. Sheppard's mouth is so soft and there's stubble poking Rodney's chin but he doesn't give a shit, really not at all. He pushes his tongue in Sheppard's mouth and Sheppard pushes back. Then, Sheppard's literally pushing back, fisting the front of Rodney's shirt and backing Rodney into the wall.

Sheppard doesn't stop so much as Rodney's body breaks his momentum, and Rodney feels those lean, taut muscles press into him, feels the bulge of Sheppard's erection a second before Sheppard kisses him, with as much heat and want as Rodney's ever been kissed with before.

And then, everything goes into fast forward. Sheppard rests his forehead against Rodney's and goes to work first on Rodney's fly, then his own. "Look," Sheppard says, between harsh breaths, "later, we're gonna do this right, I promise, but now, I've got to – I don't want to wait." Cool air hits Rodney's overheated dick and the next thing he knows, Sheppard is down to his knees in front of him.

"Oh, God," Rodney groans as his aching dick is engulfed in the warm, wet heaven of Sheppard's mouth. He leans back against the wall as Sheppard takes him apart, one hand stripping the length while he sucks Rodney down, making slurping noises that shouldn't be hot but are.

His legs are shaking, his palms are skidding on the wall as he struggles to keep his feet. Rodney's having trouble processing it all because John Sheppard is giving him a blowjob and it's impossible to keep his hips from moving. He'd like to grab Sheppard's head and fuck his mouth, that mouth that he's dreamed about almost since the day they met and that's it, Rodney can't take it anymore.

His whole body is electrified, all the nerve endings throbbing at the surface and Rodney puts his hands on Sheppard's head and rocks up into that wicked, tight heat. He works to keep the movement of his hips small, arching up and then back, slow and easy, torturing himself, drawing it out as long as he can.

On one pass, he pulls back too far and Sheppard's mouth comes off him with a dirty pop. But Sheppard just swallows him down again, like he's hungry for it, like he's been dying to suck Rodney's dick and that's when Rodney loses it and he comes so hard he gets a cramp in his ass.

Rodney hangs there, gulping in air, his legs keeping him upright only from memory. Rodney's still pretty groggy so it takes a while to register that the other sound he hears is Sheppard's hand whipping along his own dick. But before Rodney can maneuver to get a glimpse, Sheppard comes, his mouth open and gasping against Rodney's hip.

* * *

"Wow. This is pretty embarrassing."

Rodney staggers over to the bed – he's _certain_ there's a torn muscle in his glutes – while Sheppard limps into the bathroom for clean up – the floor is hard on his knees.

"Will you stop bitching? I did all the heavy lifting here."

Rodney strips down to his boxers and stretches out carefully on the bed. "Well, I'm just saying. Maybe we're too old for this."

Sheppard comes back and Rodney lets his eyes rove over Sheppard's long, beautiful body. "I'll try to take it easy on you next time. Now move over."

Rodney groans and turns onto his side. Sheppard slips in beside Rodney, stretching against him with all the languid grace of a jungle cat. Rodney's pretty sure that his eyes roll back in his head and he presses his face into Sheppard's neck to save himself further embarrassment.

Sheppard makes a little humming sound and drops his arm around Rodney's waist, sliding his warm palm up and down Rodney's spine. "Just think – if you hadn't screwed up the quarantine system protocols, this may never have happened."

Rodney raises his head. "I didn't screw up anything. It was a necessary tweak. However shortsighted," Rodney adds under his breath, laying his head against Sheppard's again and running his hand up and down his side.

"Okay, I didn't mean it," Sheppard says against his ear, making Rodney shiver. "Still love me?"

For just a moment, Rodney gets the sour taste of panic in his mouth. He knows what he feels and he knows what he wants but whether or not to trust it – that's the question of the hour.

Before he can answer, Sheppard pushes Rodney onto his back and trails kisses across his chest and down his stomach, and Rodney's brain function decreases by roughly half. John Sheppard is kissing him and he can do little else but and touch John's head and whisper the truth. "Yeah, I do."

"Me, too," Sheppard says softly into Rodney's skin and Rodney has to tug him back up and kiss him for that.

They settle against each other, belly-to-belly, legs tangled. Rodney lays there, his arms full of John Sheppard and thinks how cool it is to be him. Because it's official now – wormhole physics has nothing on this. He may have to look for a new career because work is never going to have the same appeal again.

"So. How long has this been going on?" Rodney doesn't try to keep the smug out of his voice because, really? He's entitled. He's just bagged the biggest babe in two galaxies and _yes,_ point goes to the geek.

"Hmm?"

"I mean, is this a recent development or have you been pining for me for years? Maybe since Antarctica? Because that would be really flattering."

"Oh, God."

"Come on, tell me."

"Don't ask me that. I don't know when, okay? It's just – always been there."

"Yeah," Rodney says, while on the inside, he's raising his fist in the air and screaming _yes_. "But I was right about the other stuff, wasn't I? The freak out? Everything?"

Sheppard pulls back and rests his head on one hand. "I guess you were mostly right."

"A-ha," Rodney says triumphantly.

"The night you got drunk, I thought you were trying to tell me something." Sheppard rubs his thumb over Rodney's bottom lip and it's awesome so Rodney lets him. "So I hung around you more, waiting for another sign. But then you were going to propose to Katie and I figured I must have been wrong. So – "

"The freak out," Rodney continues, sliding his hand down Sheppard's side to come to rest on his hip. "So you thought telling the team that I loved them was really a way to tell you – "

"Well. Not just that."

"What then?"

There's the slightest upward curve to Sheppard's mouth and Rodney's heart sinks. "Well, see, buddy, there was something I didn't tell you about that night. Something else that happened."

Rodney closes his eyes. "Oh, my God, what? What did I do?"

"Relax, it wasn't terrible. You just kissed me with your hand down your pants."

He springs up to a sitting position, his whole body flushed with heat. "That's a lie. I would never – in a million years, I – " Sheppard's watching him with such warm affection that Rodney can't go on with what are clearly useless denials.

"I did?" he asks in a small voice.

Sheppard nods and pulls him down again, wrapping himself around Rodney, tight and possessive. "Yeah. You did."

Rodney wriggles closer still and mouths Sheppard's freckled shoulder for a thoughtful minute. "Well. I can see how that would confuse you." Sheppard hums agreeably and rubs gentle fingers through Rodney's hair and he's about to fall into a doze when he jerks with full awareness. "Wait a minute. That means _that_ was our first kiss and I don't even remember it."

Sheppard executes one of his defensive moves and Rodney finds himself on his back, with Sheppard straddling him, his wrists pinned above his head.

Rodney pants as Sheppard leans down and kisses him with scorching tenderness, like he treasures Rodney for more than just the things he can do. Like maybe he's been imagining tangled sheets and lazy mornings and familiar kisses, too.

"I can make it up to you," Sheppard promises thickly. "Trust me."


End file.
